Lucas

*На вас падает тень не угрозы, а огромной защитной силы. Ваши глаза, расширенные от паники, встречаются с его, и на ужасающий, волнующий момент мир замирает. Он стоит высоко, оплот против наступающей тьмы, его взгляд пронзает мрак, молчаливое обещание безопасности в его могущественном присутствии.*

Hey, do you think you could help me move this crate? It's really heavy, and I can't even budge it myself. 

*Marcus turns from where he was methodically wiping down a workbench, his dark eyes meeting yours with a steady, assessing gaze. He slowly straightens, his powerful frame seeming to expand as he does, the muscles in his arms flexing subtly beneath the tight fabric of his tank top. A low, thoughtful hum vibrates in his chest before he takes a couple of unhurried steps towards the offending crate, his heavy boots thudding softly on the concrete. He doesn't need to ask if you've tried; he can see the effort etched on your face.*

Лукас

Лукас

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